


The Devil's in the Details

by A_Ravens_Flight, littlelamplight



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Human AU, captain!astra, detective!alex, detective!lucy, judge!alura, mayhem and murder and everyone's gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8141572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Ravens_Flight/pseuds/A_Ravens_Flight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelamplight/pseuds/littlelamplight
Summary: “As if men had a monopoly on murder” - Jaime Moriarty 
For the twins, waging a war against crime was never going to be easy, despite the aid of those who stood with them. But every action has a consequence, and the Artist will have her due. 
In which Alura is the target of a nefarious serial killer, and Lucy is assigned to protect her.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xreyskywalkersolo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xreyskywalkersolo/gifts), [finlyandka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finlyandka/gifts).



_ ‘I have a dream, a fantasy . . . To help me through reality . . . And my destination makes it worth the while . . . Pushing through the darkness still another mile . . . I believe in angels . . . Something good in everything I see . . . I believe in ange-‘ _

 

The music echoed loudly off the walls, each chorus dancing through the dimly lit room to fill the ears of the silent man bound to the chair, it’s legs crooked and straining under his weight.

 

The air was stale and heavily laden with dust, almost as though the room itself had not been graced with the company of the living for quite some time, with further evidence of such a fact to be found in the cobwebs strewn along the cracked corners, spun by long-since dead spiders. Regardless, it was not as if the captive held in the room could make any observations or criticise the conditions in which he had found himself in. His vision was heavily obscured by the poor lighting and his eyes struggled to focus in what would surely be the symptom of one hell of a hangover. 

 

His abductor had deemed it appropriate to remove him of his clothing, leaving him practically naked and exposed to the cold, chest bare and stripped down only to the cheap boxer shorts he favoured and his ‘not so lucky now’ socks, wrists absent of their usual adornments of fake watches and gold chains, replaced with white plastic cable ties that chafed. 

 

There was a great deal of uncertainty on just how long he had been there, how long the supposedly joyous and soothing tones of ABBA had serenaded the private, nonsensical torture, but judging by the numbing in his body and the pins and needles that shot up and down his legs it had to have been some time. 

 

He had tried to remember the events which had led up to him rousing in the chair, tired with no physical signs of a violent capture, but his memory was being blocked, and attempts to remove the block resulting only in further confusion from garbled images and flashes of places that bore no familiarity to him. 

 

Perhaps if the crude gag wrapped around his parched lips didn’t constrict so much he would laugh, if only to cut through the stale sound, maybe even throw a few curses out to boot. He tried loosening the thing himself, flexing his jaw ever so slightly in an attempt to stretch the fabric over his lips and under the week old stubble on his chin. At the very least with the gag removed he could cry out for help and perhaps even alert a passerby to his status, but his efforts were in vain. The surprisingly clean fabric was wound securely around his head, offering no leeway whatsoever and mocking him for his attempts. There would be no calling for help tonight it would seem.  

 

With an exhausted sigh, he admitted temporary defeat and let his head droop, offering his neck a little respite from the strain of having to hold up his weary head. A muffled yawn escaped as he wondered about his captor, who was yet to make an appearance, was yet to make demands or offer explanations, leaving him to the same damn song on repeat and only his private fears to keep him company in the dark.

 

The list of potential subjects sure was high and extended beyond National City all the way to Gotham, and though he had friends everywhere and a semi-loyal crew his enemies did outnumber them 2:1, leaving him coming up empty on who had finally snapped and thought to serve him that dish best served cold.

 

The contentedness to wallow and resign himself to his fate didn't survive very long, lasting only for another chorus of the song before he was once again struggling to free himself. Hell if he was going down it wouldn't be like this, the man thought as he narrowed his gaze and stared down at his blueing toes with as much concentration as he could muster, starting to wring his wrists together and flexing rough and calloused hands back and forth in an attempt to try and ease the pain from the far too tight cable ties that kept him bound to the chair, the friction welting the skin. 

 

He was more a prisoner to his own impatience than anything else at the current time, every futile attempt at escape only resulting in further pain, bringing him no closer to his original goal and only adding to the distress of the whole situation, but he was determined and no one could really fault him for that.  

 

There was a dull ache and slight throb that pulsed through his head that demanded his immediate attention. It clearly had to be in protest of whatever concoction had been slipped into his system and used to knock him out cold. The pain from that outweighed all the others and was beginning to stir his emotions from barely contained terror to rage because only a coward would use such a tool to bring a man down. 

 

Once again he searched his mind for an explanation to the predicament and brought his attention back to recalling what had transpired in the hours before he had awoken in the chair, slowly becoming more and more aware of his sense of self as the drug’s hold lessened a little more, allowing the garbled images from earlier to become much clearer and less fragmented. 

Though the memories that he forcibly dredged up were still quite clouded and seemed to shimmer out of focus, he did manage to conjure up images of a woman leaning against a stained bar in a place, upon further pained inspection, he recognised as a frequent haunt of his and his fellow associates.

 

It was a dive owned by his boss that they frequented after a hard day pushing narcotics and reeling in suckers, a place where they could toast the successes of the day whilst the fuzz chased their shadows and their bank got bigger. Everything about the place screamed corrupt and criminal, from the staff with questionable morals and personal records right down to the blood stained furniture cleaned weekly with cheap bleach. It's walls had certainly bore witness to many a police raid and yet somehow, business always boomed. 

 

He sure did love that place, so it was little wonder the image was so clear now for him, his brain now easily filling in the blanks for missing details. 

 

Focusing on the woman again the bound man tried to jump start his brain into making a connection, scowling when her image grew sharper but everything else dulled yet again, the drugs still apparently kicking and fighting for a hold. 

 

Looking as she had it had to have been clear for all the patrons to see that the stranger had definitely not belonged in that seedy hole, no question about it. The chick had been dressed to the nines, curves accented and muscles defined like no other woman he had ever happened upon before, and very different from the local street workers he fucked every night or so, which had naturally drawn his attention to her in the first place, his gaze leering and dirty.  

 

She had sauntered in down the metal staircase, one hand tapping a rhythm on the chipped railing that had suffered many a collision with drunken louts heads, demanding attention from every perverted gaze in the room but with sharp, almost hawk like, eyes only on him. 

 

In that moment he seemed to recall himself asking the Lord he had turned his back on a long time ago (a stretch in Juvie will do that to a guy) how he had ever gotten so lucky.   

 

This ‘Lord’, had unsurprisingly failed to offer a response and had maintained complete silence as he made his first mistake locking gaze with the siren, the alcohol and sudden proximity of her bosom apparently blinding him to the strange way in which the cheap whiskey he had been nursing fizzed and popped, a small white tablet expertly dropped into the amber liquid when she had purposely leant over him to talk to the female bartender Jessica, or ‘Ratchet’ as the woman had been appropriately nicknamed after she cracked some creeps skull open with the heavy tool when he wouldn't stop hounding her. 

 

He had watched their interaction with some curiosity, trying to get her attention once Ratchet had turned away to pour whatever fruity little cocktail the woman had surely ordered. At first she had offered him only a slight smirk and quick ‘Hi’ by way of greeting, all but ignoring him after that to chat amicably with Ratchet who hadn’t seemed to have minded the attention, but who could have blamed her really? It wasn't often someone who was devoid of track marks and generally clean stepped foot in the place. 

 

He had watched her shamelessly flirt with the other woman and then pouted, thinking that she only batted for the other team which would be just his luck, but then that had changed when Ratchet left to deal with an unruly patron and suddenly she couldn't seem to stop talking to him, introducing herself as Astra and saying she was new in town and looking for a little fun to get back at her ex, the last part accentuated with a wink.  She was very forthcoming with her story which in his line of work should have rang alarm bells, but in the battle between his brain and his dick the latter won out and he had sidled a little closer to her, feigning interest in her. 

 

They had shared a pitcher and she fed him stories of the ex in question, proclaiming that they were always putting her down and doubting her, she was a painter and her work was her life apparently, the criticism had finally been too much so here she was, looking to cause a little pain herself. 

 

He of course had been quick to offer her some pleasantries, dropping her the usual ‘not all men’ lines in the hopes of playing the white knight so he could get between her legs and be the ‘fun’ to get back at the ex, and the more they drank the more she seemed to have bought it. Before long she had shifted impossibly close to him, quite frequently ‘accidentally’ grazing the tops of his thighs while small and innocent sounding giggles fell from her lips by way of apology. 

 

He had dared to return the sentiment, hand moving to roam along her lower back with the occasionally cheeky dip to cup her ass and pinch, with a charming smirk plastered across his face. 

 

If he'd have been truly paying attention to the woman herself, and not her body, he would have noticed the dangerous glint in her eye every time he dared to cop a feel and she slapped his hand away. Perhaps he would have noticed the foreshadowing in her behaviour and in the way she teased?

 

But he was quick to blame the alcohol again because by the sixth drink and third shot, all chance of coherent and rational thought was gone as she leant in again, soft skin close enough that he could count the expertly concealed frown lines around her eyes had he'd have been sober enough.

 

He remembered the feel of her soft lips pressed against his ear after that, her breath tickling his skin as she whispered promises she never intended to keep, asking him if he would like to help her get revenge on her ex and offering him a night to remember as repayment while her teeth grazed the contour of a scar on his neck, born from battle with a rival gang. 

 

He felt a blush creep up in embarrassment of just how eager he had been to accept her offer, disgusted at the memory of himself acting like some horny adolescent and not the suave collected man he was. 

 

In the memory it had been very clear just who was in control in that dingy little hovel.

 

It was not him. 

 

She had pulled back again just as quickly as she had moved closer with her offer, eyes twinkling with amusement at his apparent eagerness to move things along when his hands cupped her breasts over her dress, his actions suddenly starting to seem more sluggish but brazen in the memory as she eyed the bulge he wasn't even embarrassed to try and conceal from her. 

 

They had talked only a little more after that, mainly about his business (the chick seemed to have enjoyed his story about him gutting a cop that refused to take a bribe), before finally she leant in again and beckoned for him to follow suit, capturing his mouth against her own and nibbling at his lip before pulling away, yet another glint of amusement in her eye. 

 

At this point he remembered thinking that he ought to have dropped the chick a line like ‘ _ let's take this somewhere more private _ ’ or some other hastily plagiarised crappy pick-up line, just to maintain the illusion that he was in control or perhaps even to spur her on. He needn’t have bothered either way, she seemed to have read his mind, rising to her feet abruptly and turning away to leave, ensnaring him with just a simple sway of her hips and luring him away from the protection of the bar lights and his friends, out into the shadows and danger of the city he thought he ruled.

 

The girl had wandered into the wrong neighbourhood and she had sure as shit had the balls to stick around.

 

He’d never even stood a chance.

 

_ ‘And my destination makes it worth the while . . . Pushing through the darkness still another mile’ _

 

The song snapped him back to reality and the ill-fated man squirmed in the chair, disgust at the memory very prevalent in his mind. There was nothing left to recall after that, searches came up empty, so he could only assume that whatever happened next had happened whilst he was out with Astra, they'd probably be finding her body in a couple of months or so in the river, most likely killed and tortured by whoever had taken him.   

 

‘ _ I believe in angels . . . Something good in everything I see’ _

 

He tested the bonds for what felt like the hundredth time as the irony of the song and the gravity of the situation hit home. 

 

There were no angels to save him now and nor had there ever been in his short and rather pathetic life. He realised that now, as his mind quickly went through the stages of grief, rushing through to acceptance. 

 

The devil ran this town and he’d made his way dancing on its back, pissing off or back-stabbing just about every thug that crossed his path to wealth . . .  it was only a matter of  time before he would have to own up to his debt, to pay the devil his dues, but whoever bore this title, whoever was carrying out this satanic job of debt collector was a mystery, a secret that drove his frustrations further to the brink the longer he was left to his thoughts.  

 

And that god awful song, it was driving him mad.

 

In a last ditch attempt at hope he thought on the possibility of this all being a practical joke, a ruse played by his crew as a means of punishing him for skimming their cut all the time. He wouldn’t put it past them to use a woman, not when it was common knowledge his nights were spent crawling the kerbs looking for a cheap fuck and a quick fix. It would explain why she was nowhere to be seen and perhaps even why he was practically naked, they’d love to screw with him for a bit and embarrass him, hell he half expected Donovan to come through the door at any moment with a camera, that greasy toothy smile plastered across the thug's face, ‘got ya boss!’ he would say . . . but no, no one came.  

 

Finally, after hours of torment, he heard a noise of shuffling in the distance, just outside of the walls of his apparent prison and suddenly, without much warning or indication by way of creaking wood, a heavily barred door to his left slid open and a shadowed figure sauntered in, coming to an abrupt halt to his left and standing in silence for a few moments, then the sound of a hand sliding across a stone wall like it was searching for something until a switch was flipped, a blinding light from above suddenly illuminating the scene and causing him to flinch away. 

 

There was no mistaking his captor once his vision cleared and adjusted to the harsh light, no doubt in his addled mind, it was definitely the woman from the bar, the beautiful revealing dress replaced by stained coveralls and worn rubber boots that painted a rather grim picture for what she planned to do if she needed such a uniform.

 

Fuck. 

 

“Ahh, you’re finally awake – god that’s so cliché and yet, aptly appropriate”.

 

Her voice was entirely different now and sounded sickly sweet, like it belonged to the kind of person who made friends with everyone and liked to think they were literal sunshine in human form when in actual fact, they tended to be the one sharpening the blade for the target on your back and you’d never even see it coming. 

 

And he had not. 

 

The man squirmed again in disgust at being played and bested by a chick. God he hated this bitch already, any and all previous thoughts or concerns for her welfare well and truly banished from the recesses of his mind to be replaced with contempt and mirth.

 

She crossed in front of his path and directly into his line of sight, shoulders hunched over whilst curious yet sinister eyes regarded him like a predator would with its prey.

 

“I’m glad you’re rested, it’s important to me that you’re not tired. We’ve got a lot to do and a short time to do it in - by the way you’re really heavy for someone who looks like he couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag, I guess being a low life keeps you busy”.

 

She flipped another switch, one that hung from the ceiling on a small box with wires trailing from it and the room truly lit up. 

 

He squinted in the sudden harsh beam from what looked to be a construction light, stomach flipping when he noted the small bag bursting with tools and knives that sat ominously in the corner, something that he had definItely not noticed earlier in the dark. 

 

Again, Fuck.

 

He gulped in slight panic as it became clear that his hopes for the whole charade being a joke were dashed when the woman followed his panicked gaze and glanced lovingly in the bags direction, turning her head slowly back with a sickening smile. 

 

The bile rose hard and fast after that, blocked only by the crude gag that prevented any ill thought quip or retort to her earlier insult.

 

“Oh don't worry about those silly little things, I've got something special for you”.

 

She straddled his lap, hand slipping under her dress and to her thigh, gaze cruel with a devilish smile that would fuel his nightmares should he live to dream again. 

 

His eyes tracked her movements and went wide when she slid a small, but by no means less imposing, knife from a holster that was hidden and obscured against her flesh. Just how long had that been there? Had she been wearing it in the bar? These were the questions that chanted in his head, if only to offer a very small reprieve from the reality of his current situation. 

 

She brought the blade up to his face, the tip hanging precariously close to his left eye whilst every nerve twitched, waiting to be set alight by the impending pain. His body desperately wanted to convulse in terror, held back only by the need to save his pride some face and perhaps spare a little more dignity than that of which he had already lost at the bar when he shamefully fell into her trap. 

 

The proximity of the blade however demanded his full attention and allowed him a closer observation as to what kind of knife would be taking his life tonight. There was no mistaking the design of the weapon this she-devil bore. He’d seen its likeness before, even wielded one himself. 

 

An oyster shucker, a preferred tool for those who favoured their prey to bleed and writhe before their misery ended. And judging by the way the woman grinned at him and licked her lips, she was no exception.

 

“Pretty isn’t it? I’m somewhat of a collector. I’ve not had a chance to use my favorite yet as it's reserved for someone of a much higher calibre than you, but I trust you can appreciate the beauty of this blade at least, perhaps even take some comfort in its design. To meet your end by something so finely crafted, I dare say I do envy you, the way you were carrying on in the city it would have been a buckshot to your gut or a slug to your brain had I not intervened. Not to mention the cops were closing in on you”.

 

The blade danced away from his iris and he blew out a small sigh of relief until his addled brain was able to make sense of what she had said to him, causing him to quiver in terror and squirm again in the chair to try and get away.

 

Then without much warning, the oyster shucker sunk itself into the flesh of his crotch, slicing through as if he was merely made of paper and a blood curdling scream ripped from his throat, muffled by the fabric that hung tightly between dry lips.

 

Any observer of the torture would see from the way he writhed that the pain had to be excruciating, beyond a threshold that anyone would dare claim to have, and yet he fought hard against it to look this devil in the eye with a steady gaze, panting and shaking in rage.

 

He wanted to reply to this crazy bitch after she slipped the blade out of his flesh and offered him a moment of reprieve, desperate to tell her to stab herself with the fucking thing then if she was so ‘envious’, but it was no use, his words were drowned in screams of anguish as the blade found its home again among his flesh, this time far too close to his prick, almost like she was deliberately aiming around it. 

 

The woman slapped him hard across the face to halt his moans, gripping his chin with a possessive like hold to keep him focused on her and hanging off her every word.

 

“You know, I do tell all my subjects this but you really are special to me. You’re all blank canvases, so dull and tainted by the mundane thrall of the lives you lead, until I get to paint you that is. You see, what I do is Art in its purest form, taking something so- what's the word?“.

 

The knife twisted and pushed further through his body, meeting its final resistant at the bone of his pelvis with a violent crack that made the mad woman giggle in insane delight. 

 

He could not share her sentiment and screamed in agony, tears spilling freely to pool with the blood atop his thigh whilst he tried to make some kind of sense of what was happening, why it was happening, music still happily playing along in the background to serenade his torture.

 

_ ‘Pushing through the darkness still another mile . . .’ _

 

“Ahh yes that's it, something so broken and wanting, turning it into a marvel to be appreciated. Your soul is trapped and I’m going to be the one to free it from the confines of your body, create a masterpiece with what remains . . . granted you won’t be by magnus opal, that title is reserved for another, more coveted prize . . . you are merely a stepping stone. I’ll be even closer to her thanks to your sacrifice tonight”. 

 

She licked her lips again and cocked her head for a moment whilst he quivered beneath her, gaze piercing his own until, without warning, she took pity on his whimpering and carefully peeled away the gag with all the attention of a mother with its child, removing her weight from his injured lap to stand before him again.

 

“Ww- . . .” a groan and soft whimper of a dying creature escaped his mouth, in place of the question his brain demanded be spoke aloud and answered, if only just to slow the speed of his descent to insanity at the hands of the woman with all the promises.

 

There was little doubt in his mind that he would not walk away from this, if the black spots creeping at the edge of his vision were anything to go off at least. She was clearly raving mad and might as well have been talking in tongues with her grand speech on why she was doing this, a stark contrast from the vixen he wanted to fuck in the bar.

 

She offered no true explanation which only added to the terror that engulfed him and threatened to swallow him whole. 

 

“Shhhh a canvas does not speak, it begs for the attention of the artist but it does not question what she paints”.

 

The words were cooed with such sickening affection that he heaved again in the hopelessness of the situation, soiling himself and feeling his pride leak away, before begging the silent Lord he had shunned to come to his aid, to save him from this devil’s delusions, promising to repent for the rest of his miserable life in repayment, as long as he could have just that . . .  _ his life _ .

 

He wasn’t ready to go, no one ever was, but he had plans, plans that required him to be alive and breathing, not the plaything of some jacked up sociopath calling herself a painter.

 

But then, in the agony clouded recesses of his mind, he came up with a crude plan and fought hard against the sweet release of unconsciousness. 

 

She seemed to think he could help her find her  _ magnus thingy _ and she was clearly delusional. Perhaps he could talk her around to letting him go or at least freeing his hands, that way he could take her unawares and gain the upper hand. 

 

Regardless, this bitch was dead if he got the chance to close his hands around her pretty little neck and show her just what an oyster shucker could do, she'd made him howl but he would make her scream, and he would take his time for what this bitch had put him through. 

 

“Hey . . . hey look at me just a second doll, hear me out won’t you? I can help you out, this doesn’t have to end in blood- anymore bloodshed. I can be very useful here ok? I know this city, I got people who can get you anything you want ok?! I've got a hand in every pocket, anything you want, name it and I can get it for you baby”.

 

She paused momentarily and regarded him with the same look that she had wore earlier, only it seemed crueller now, perhaps more calculating as she threw her head back and snorted.

 

“Men, honestly, it’s a wonder any of you make it out of infancy. Do you truly believe addressing me as some sexist piece of shit name and pleading is going to help you? Honey, you’re in the hands of a professional. I always win because I never fold and I take pride in my work. You were chosen. There is no out for you. The only person who needs help here is you, if you've got someone who can get you an ‘out’ they better fucking hurry”.

 

Her smile curled around the quick, precise statements, a pretty thing framing something dark and macabre, her teeth slightly bared, her eyes glinting with humour that elicited a quick struggle of panic from her prey.

 

She let a small smile slip, enjoying the way he shook when his desperate pleas failed to draw the reaction he had wanted from her.

 

“Let me go, please I won’t tell anyone I swear, you’ll never hear from me again, please I’m nothing special, don’t sully your pretty little hands with the likes of me”.

 

He tried again, crying with no fears of shame anymore, if she asked he would get down on his knees and grovel, kiss her fucking boots if she so desired. 

 

“Honestly you just can’t help yourself can you? Astonishing, these ‘pretty little hands’ could snap your scrawny neck if I so desired your soul a painless release, I suggest you-”

 

“NO I'M SORRY! Look I’ll even help you find this fucking girl-”

 

A sharp slap stung his cheek and flared his skin, the colour matching the liquid that now coiled at the edge of the chair and dripped to the floor.

 

“Her name is Alura and you will not speak of her! Your lips are unworthy of such a woman”.

 

She growled, the noise low and territorial, a clear warning for him to keep quiet and obey commands but fear could drive the sanest of people crazy, the instinct to survive sending signals to be misinterpreted and falsely acted upon.

 

Despite his best interest lying in doing just the opposite, he continued to plead with the madwoman.  

 

“Look I know people ok, I run these streets I can find this Alura chick and you don’t have to kill me or free my soul or whatever just let me go please I-”

 

“ENOUGH!”

 

The knife was freed from its hold in his flesh, bringing with it another chip of bone and he quivered in shock until it thrust beneath his ribs, choking out more pleas over the blood gurgling in his throat.

 

“We . . .  Find her. . .  Alura, please sto-”

 

“A. CANVAS. DOES. NOT. SPEAK”.

 

She screeched like a banshee and the blade truly went to work, slashing and hacking away at screaming skin, blood spurting in every direction from arteries savagely ripped open and punctuating each word until her voice grew hoarse and he no longer drew breath, pupils blown and head hung low.

 

Finally the devil had claimed his bounty on the man and left him to the sweet reprieve of death, but the woman was not quite sated yet.

 

Despite his deceased condition she continued to stab, seeking her own reprieve from the fury the man had awoken when he defied her and his role as her canvas, daring to speak the name of the one she coveted the most. No other had even dared to challenge her in such a way, she had to set an example, but to just whom would remain a mystery given she was currently alone with no one to bare witness.

 

When she was finished, soaked in crimson and a slight sheen of sweat, she blew out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose, fingers ghosting over the small scar that cut across it, adrenaline from the kill slowly ebbing away her frustrations at the mess. 

 

The clean up was always the worst, at best it would take her three hours to prep her canvas and display it in her signature way, the rest would be spent cleaning the room and removing any trace of her presence. Fortunately she'd been doing this sort of work long enough to complete it to perfection, not a single precious second would be wasted. 

 

She set about the task and took pride in every little part, each precise incision to the body was carried out with meticulous and almost obsessive care, she was an artist after all, and her work could not be anything less than perfect. It was always chaotic but unique to her, each canvas deserving of the fearful reputation she had earned, the reputation that Alura had tried to take from her. 

 

She couldn't wait to paint Alura, she dreamt of it every night, thought about it every waking moment, an obsession that she couldn't let go of until she had the woman in her clutches. 

 

The birds had begun their morning calls by the time she was done adding one of the finishing touches to her work, a coded message placed across the bloodied torso clear for the police to see. In the distance she heard a waste disposal truck trundling up the road, clear evidence of a sun soon to rise and her cue to leave this place. 

 

With a careful change of clothes and a fond smile at the macabre sight of the twisted remains, the artist reached into her bag and placed a pendant atop the severed head, swiftly departing from the room and leaving her work to the darkness of the dingy hovel and tones of the music that would be left to play to a solitary audience.

 

In estimation the cops would find the canvas in a few hours and in doing so would put the rest of her plan into play. She was so close now, so close she could almost reach out into the darkness and end the torment and mockery that had been cruelly inflicted upon her. 

 

Stepping out onto the cold street to teeter on the edge of the cracked pavement, the Artist took a short moment to look up to the sky, dark clouds of an impending storm reflecting in her gaze as she soaked in National City’s skyline and let the distant sounds of congested traffic fill her ears as the citizens began the work day, blissfully unaware of the monster that prowled in their shadow. 

 

Tonight was going to be special, this city with its sky rises and crumbling suburbs was going to shake and finally bow at her feet, grovelling for mercy.

 

She could feel it.

 

Tonight, the pawn would kill a queen. 


	2. Chapter 2

As far as morning briefings were concerned, this had to have been the quietest on record. For a moment the only sounds to be heard coming from the room were the slight groans of metal from chairs being crushed by overweight cops and semi-loud yawns being quickly stifled. Not a single officer or detective dare make a voluntary peep when their Captain had a face like thunder and the fiery temper to match.

 

The reasons for said temper would of course never be revealed to anyone beyond her own personal circle, but that didn’t stop the people in the bullpen from speculating and whispering whenever she looked to the board painted with the likeness of criminals and not their nervous faces.

 

Detective Ritas, the NCPD class clown (every precinct had one), started a pointless betting pool 5 minutes in after the Captain settled into a long talk on the procedure behind body cameras on their new vests. 

 

The top suggestion that had the officers and detectives alike silently passing a quick buck over, and hiding sniggers behind closed hands, was that the Captains secretive girlfriend, the one that no one knew technically existed, was not ‘giving it up’. 

 

Of course this earned a rather loud snort from a certain short haired detective who was seated just in front of Ritas, her intricate doodle of what looked like a bird temporarily unfinished as she turned in her seat and leant over to promptly take the cash pile from Ritas, flipping him the bird which transformed into a quick fire finger gun and a daring wink.

 

“Something to share with the room Detective Danvers? Something . . . funny?”

 

Guess Alex’s snort was louder than she'd thought.  _ Fuck _ .

 

Police Captain Astra In-Ze, decorated National City hero and former Gotham Detective, stared down the plucky brunette, arms folded across her chest with a slight twitch in her eye born from the annoyance of being interrupted mid speech.

 

Her glare was acutely fixed upon Alex and was the kind that suggested the detective better not reply with anything other than ‘No ma’am’, but Alex was undeterred, shooting the woman seated on her left a quick glance. 

 

“I guess Lunch is on you today Danvers”, Detective Lane muttered ever so quietly under her breath when Alex looked at her, leaning back in the crappy office chairs and tapping her foot against the carpet, gaze flicking between her Captain and her partner, a small knowing smile fixed firmly in place in preparation of her partner’s impending mischief. 

 

Alex shot her another side glance and grit her teeth, grinding down hard while she thought of a response that would draw attention off herself and take the prospect of latrine duty with it.

 

“Well, Detective?” Astra demanded, fury evident in the gaze that continued to be locked firmly with Alex’s, the overhead lighting seeming to make the white streak in her hair glow menacingly. 

 

It was only a short moment after her Captain’s question that a devilish smirk took form upon her face, leaving Ritas sure as shit worried because everyone in the precinct knew that look. It was infamous for Danvers and it always,  _ always,  _ carried trouble. 

 

“Sorry Ma’am. . . Detective Ritas was just worried about you Captain and I was addressing his concerns. What was it you said Paulo? Captain In-Ze is not getting enough-”

 

“REST, Captain . . . rest”.

 

Ritas was quick to interject, his face as red as the blood that boiled beneath his skin at Danvers direct taunt and, needless to say, quite ballsy move given their Captains clear unamusement and low tolerance this morning. 

 

“Well if you’re so concerned Detective, you can jockey a desk today, that way if I need you to fetch a coffee to perk me up I can ring a little bell and you will come running, are we clear?”

 

Lucy stifled a laugh as Alex pressed down hard on her foot to stop her from facing the Captain's wrath too, winking at Ritas in the process. 

 

“Yes, ma’am”.

 

The Latino scowled, interest suddenly drawn to a spot on the floor as the room settled down again with the Captain finalising the briefing and Alex counting her new found ‘earnings’, much to Lucy’s and the other detectives clear amusement. 

 

“In future any concerns about my well being are to be kept to yourselves, this is a precinct not a therapy circle, your only concerns are the safety of the city and its citizens, not my, or anyone else's for that fact, personal life . . . unless of course it directly impedes your ability to do your job”.

 

As punishment Astra took her sweet time and unnecessarily prolonged the day’s events, taking extra care to enunciate each and every word and flesh out every detail until eyelids started to droop and yawns were being stifled more frequently.

 

When she finally finished and placed down the pen it was like a teacher dismissing her students from the final class before summer, her officers practically ran from the room, eager to get away from her before she decided to take her mood out on them too or stick them behind a desk. 

 

The day looked to be busy, but with the promise of a surprise visit from Mayor Crane and the Commissioner that was to be expected. Precinct inspections were always tense and above all exhausting, they could happen at any time and you were lucky if you got any advance warning, Astra fortunately seemed to have a sixth sense with this sort of thing and always made sure her squad and district was running to max efficiency. 

 

Alex and Lucy were dreading it, their captain was fond of offering the two up for escort duty for the mayor around the precinct, counting on them to set the shining standard of professionalism so that the they could run back to city hall, assured that the taxpayers money was being well spent and giving the precinct a glowing review.

 

But with homicides through the roof and increased Gang activity from Myriad Alex could think of a better use of her time and Lucy could list plenty more. Besides, anyone who knew Astra knew that she ran a tight ship, the outcome of each inspection was always going to be good with her at the helm, still the mayor insisted on the annual check ups, desperately trying to keep herself in office by showing that she was doing her job.

 

So Alex and Lucy lingered, assuming that this was the reason that Astra was yet to assign them cases for the day. 

 

“Lane, Danvers  . . . my office 5 minutes”, Astra commanded with a flick of her hand. She strode from the room, leaving the two detectives to share looks of concern and confusion. 

 

“ What did you do now?” Alex hissed as they made their way down the corridor, hastily dodging a perp fighting off his arresting officer who was trying to lead him to one of the interrogation cells. They let him struggle for a moment before intervening to help, Lucy deadlocking him until another officer took over. 

 

“ Me? She’s your girlfriend-” Lucy finally replied when they resumed their march to an apparent scolding. It wouldn't be the first time they'd made this walk to the Captain's office, and with a partner like Alex it damn sure wouldn't be the last. 

 

Lucy figured it came with the territory of working with someone as passionate as Detective Danvers. She was a notorious hothead with a mean right hook and a well earned rep for ending fights before they started. Lucy’s perfect partner all things considered. 

 

“Lane shut the fuck up, you know the rule”, Alex spat with a warning growl, gaze quickly sweeping the area for anyone in earshot. Fortunately the bullpen was a busy place and no one was paying attention to either of them, most were hunched over files and monitors, some yawning into coffee whilst simultaneously scowling at the mess the night shift had left, all in all it would take a gunshot to disrupt the chaos of the place.

 

“Whoa tetchy today, I guess someone else isn’t getting laid either”, Lucy quipped, a small but highly sarcastic smile lighting up her face, earning herself a little taste of the fabled right hook from her partner. 

 

“ _ Ouch _ . . . Rude”.

“Suck it up Lane”.

 

Astra and Alex had been dating for little over two years now and only Lucy was privy to that fact. It would jeopardize too much for either of them if word got out, especially if HR got wind and started to question ethics and throw around heavily laden terms like ‘conflict of interest’. 

 

Lucy was a good friend, she wasn’t about to ruin this for Alex . . . but a little teasing here and there wouldn’t go amiss, besides Danvers gave as good as she got, evident by the small bruise that was probably forming on her arm from the ‘light’ punch.

 

They rounded the corner and passed through the office doors to the Captains waiting room, but before Lucy could really lay it on thick with Alex, she heard a voice, a familiar warm voice, “this is entirely unnecessary, Astra”, and her heart slammed against her ribs at the sound of it. 

 

She stopped, like she’d come up against a wall, and Alex stopped beside her, shooting her a surprised, almost concerned look, and in the silence, it was impossible not to listen in on the conversation. 

 

“You’re being unreasonable, Alura”.

 

“I’m being unreasonable, dear sister? You’re ready to lock me away and cover me in bubble wrap over a little threat. Honestly who is really being unreasonable here?”

 

There was the distinct sound of a hand slamming down on a desk in frustration, the flutter of papers falling down as consequence.

 

“I’m just trying to protect you, Alura. I can’t lose you to this ‘Artist’ freak. I won’t lose you!”

 

The Captain sounded like she was breaking, a very stark contrast from the woman who ruled the district they protected with an iron fist. Astra may be firm, but she was always fair, Alex often describing her fondly as a woman with the mind and tenacity of a tactician coupled with the heart and power of a lion, which begged the question, if she was worried and considered this person a threat, then perhaps everyone else should be quaking in their shoes. 

 

“You won’t . . . Astra what's changed? . . . Astra look at me? I’ve received countless threats before, why is this one so different?”

 

There was a moment of silence, and Alex chose that moment to lift her hand and rap her knuckles against the door, clearly uncomfortable at the idea of eavesdropping any longer on a clearly private conversation. 

 

Lucy’s throat was tight, her heart beating an erratic rhythm against her ribs, because she knew that other voice, far too well, she’d heard it breathless from laughter, hitched and muffled against her lips, soft in the dark over the phone, and she never expected this, to be faced with seeing Alura again, here, in her workplace. 

 

“Come in”. 

 

The Captain waved her hand dismissively and sunk into her chair, holding her head in her hands for a moment to collect her thoughts. Alura was quick to place a gentle hand upon her sister’s back, seemingly unfazed that this private show of affection would be viewed by others. The fact that Astra did not shrug off her sister’s hand spoke volumes, a sign of how strained she was, and perhaps more importantly, of how much she trusted the two detectives, allowing them to be privy to such endearment. 

 

Lucy and Alex trudged in. Alex’s concern for her Captain was clearly written in her face, and if Lucy hadn’t been too distracted by coming face to face with Alura again, so unexpectedly, she might have chuckled, because any fool could see how much Alex cared for Astra, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

 

But Lucy was not thinking about that. She was trying, instead, not to stare openly at Alura. She chose instead to look at her Captain, to observe the harsh frown, the bags beneath Astra’s eyes that she had not noticed back in the briefing room because she'd hadn't truly been paying attention. It was like Astra had been wearing a mask that disguised even physical signs of exhaustion, but here, it had fallen. Astra propped her chin in her hand, and waved the other at them. 

 

“Alura, you know Alex, of course. And I’m sure you remember Detective Lane?”

 

There was an air of familiarity between the four of them, bonds beyond their jobs, and it told Lucy and Alex that whatever was happening, it was serious. Astra never allowed this kind of familiarity into the workplace. “Alexandra”, Alura smiled, and Lucy remembered, in the absent way one notices peripheral movement, a static thought against the memories that the sight and sound of Alura was dredging up, that Alura was one of the few people who could call Alex by her full name, and get away with it.

 

Alura tilted her head slightly, smiling that wide, honest, warm smile that made Lucy’s heart flutter so pathetically, and her eyes gleamed with what might have been mirth, like she knew exactly what affect she was having on Lucy. “Lucy”, she said, drawing her name out like it was something to be savoured, “its good to see you again. Both of you”. 

 

Alex smiled, glancing curiously at her partner as she said, “it has been awhile, hasn’t it, Alura? What brings you down here? I thought your days as a simple lawyer were over”.

 

Alura laughed, and Lucy felt the sound somewhere deep in her bones, little golden sparks jumping beneath her skin, stirring up thoughts and feelings that she had tried, so desperately, to keep hidden, to keep repressed, while they tried to work out what to do with their strange, unorthodox, potentially disastrous relationship.

 

As she stood there, staring at Alura, soaking in the warmth that surrounded her like there was a small sun trapped between her ribs, shining out in her smiles, Lucy remembered, with startling clarity, exactly when her life had been turned upside down by the woman. 

 

The first time Lucy met Alura, she made an absolute fool of herself.  

 

**-x-**

  
  


“Are you quite alright . . . Detective?” 

 

The taller woman regarded the small detective for a quick moment, her arms encircled in a supportive manner still despite the danger having passed. Lucy found the grip firm yet comfortable, embarrassed by the blush which crept into her cheeks at the close proximity of the stranger.

 

For a ludicrously long moment, the fresh off the block detective found herself quite enjoying the way the stranger's eyes sparkled while they roamed her body for signs of injury. They were so bright, and only shone more when she smiled, seemingly noticing Lucy’s staring and choosing to see the humour in it all.

 

“Thank you”, Lucy choked out, steadying herself as the grip was relinquished and letting out a breath she didn't even realise she was holding. 

 

It wasn't often that a civilian pushed a cop out of danger and saved their life, yet here they were, both still a little high from the buzz of adrenaline which had nothing to do with the closeness of the hold. 

 

“I can't believe it”, Lucy muttered darkly, shaking her head in annoyance aimed more at herself than her would be killer. 

 

She was never going to live this down with the guys, an annoying and slightly painful fact. If they got wind that a nut job with a knife had almost taken her out because she was distracted by nerves and worries about screwing up on her first day, they would crucify her. In a job like hers, it was still more damaging for a woman to screw up than a man, something Lucy had planned to fight to change, that's for damn sure.

 

However, her quick reflexes and sharp instincts that had served her well enough to earn her a promotion and a transfer to the prestigious NCPD had apparently been non existent today, leaving her caught off guard when the presumably checked and declared as ‘unarmed’ perp had escaped the courthouse restraints and flown straight for Lucy with a growl, small crude shiv raised high above his head.

 

Her partner had immediately trained his weapon on the idiot with murderous intentions, but that had done little to halt his advance, leaving Lucy quickly backing up and fumbling for her own piece, all her years of training going to shit and leaving her staring death quite literally in the eyes. 

 

But then, with barely a second to spare, strong arms pulled her into a corridor and an extended foot sent the whack job sprawling in a comical fashion, leaving Lucy dazed but eternally grateful for the assistance.

 

“That's quite alright, Detective. I can hardly have a cop dying in my courthouse, now can I?” The woman smiled warmly and looked past Lucy for a moment to where her partner was securing her attempted killer with a little more force than necessary, judging by the howls of protest. 

 

“ _ Your _ Courthouse? Son of a- sorry, thank you, Your Honour. If you don't mind me saying, that was one hell of a save, your timings on point”. The stranger's words brought about the realisation to who this woman was and despite her short dance with danger Lucy found herself smiling back at the Judge, who in this new light looked a lot more imposing than she had a moment ago with her surprisingly toned arms wrapped around Lucy.

 

“Please, I’m off duty at the moment, call me Alura”. She winked, she actually winked, linking her hands in front of her, looking like she'd stepped right off a movie set and Lucy just stood there gaping at the woman until her partner whistled to get her attention. 

 

“Thanks for saving my partner, Your Honour, hope she didn't make a fool of herself- do I have to read you your rights again prick?” Detective Knight chuckled, seemingly unfazed that his new partner was almost sliced and diced, his knee pressed against the guys back to halt his squirming and garbled protests. 

 

Lucy scowled as Alura and Knight shared a small chuckle but the frown soon lifted when Alura was quick to her defence, 

 

“The only fool here is the person who allowed a restrained criminal to harbour a weapon. Luckily your partner was light on her feet and quick to draw his attention, Detective Knight”. The quip was light hearted but it hit home with Knight and he went red with embarrassment, muttering an apology that was almost too quiet, but still had Lucy grinning. 

 

“You coming or what, Kid?” The disgruntled detective asked as he passed them both with the perp in front, muttering to himself, something about the job never being simple.

 

“Yeah sure”. Lucy's reply was short and full of mirth at the nickname she didn't warrant, already turning to leave until Alura tapped her shoulder lightly. “Just give me a moment, yeah?” She added quickly, turning back to look at Alura, who was still smiling. It made her stomach flip in a way that was entirely different to the nerves that had accompanied her to the courthouse that day, in a way that she really should ignore, but found difficult to, with the adrenaline still coursing through her system. 

 

“Whatever, just don't be long! I'm starving and we've still got to book this idiot in”, Knight yelled back and stepped into the elevator, the ding of the metal doors sliding shut and dropping through the floor, bringing a short sense of relief to Lucy. She was probably going to get an earful in the car, especially after he had suffered the indignation of being called out by a judge. 

 

“Don’t worry about Detective Knight. . . I've known him for quite sometime now. He's somewhat of a ‘problematic’ man, but his heart is in the right place . . . Lane was it? Sorry I never got your name”. Alura's voice broke Lucy’s mind from dwelling on the inevitable scolding, and she to her surprise, she found that a little more tension from the day had started to ebb away, like waves receding from a shore.

 

Detective Lane found she rather liked that analogy, given that Alura reminded her of the ocean, powerful and unmoving, yet with all the capacity to be soft and quiet as evident by the change in her tone. Now that she could look at her properly without the threat of a knife in the back, Lucy noted that Alura really was beautiful, almost ethereal looking, and as Lucy let her gaze wander absently, she realised that the definition she'd noticed in the woman's arms as she held her seemed to extend to - 

 

_ Jesus Christ Lane, stop.  _ Lucy shook her head and silently prayed that she'd kept that quiet. Had it really been that long since she'd had those kind of thoughts? Why was she even thinking about this stuff? Alura was a stranger for christ's sake, a beautiful stranger who was looking at her with amusement because she was still yet to answer her question.

 

“Lucy”, she said hurriedly, embarrassingly aware of how long it had taken her to respond. “I’m sorry about…” she waved her hand, a gesture that could have been in reference to her uncharacteristic awkwardness, or the general situation in that had just occurred, “it’s been a strange day, to say the least”. 

 

“Lucy?” Alura pronounced her name like she was rolling it over her tongue, like she was tasting it, and Lucy inhaled sharply at the sound. “What a lovely name”, the woman smiled almost absently, before adding, “but you needn’t apologise. I think a near death experience would leave anyone unsteady on their feet. No offence intended of course. You're new are you not?” Alura inquired, eyes suddenly a little sharper and focused, like she was studying Lucy like she was one of her case files, scrutinising the tiniest of features. 

 

“Is it that obvious?,” a swift sigh, “I moved here a week ago, transferred from Metropolis PD when the brass finally got their heads out of their ass and promoted me. First day on the job and not the beat, hell I've not even met my captain yet and well . . . You can see how well this is all going”. The detective ground her teeth by way of annoyance at herself and gestured around her again. Alura didn't seem to mind the shift in attitude from her, and Lucy, wrapped up in her irritation at herself for nearly screwing up on the first day, entirely missed the bright flicker of amusement in the woman’s eyes. 

 

“Oh no not at all, it's just that when you've lived and worked in National City as long as I have you tend to remember the faces of the NCPD. I'd certainly remember a face like yours”. The amusement was there in her voice, light and knowing, the corner of her mouth ticked up in a smile that Lucy would have called a smirk if not for the warmth in the woman’s eyes. A smirk, somehow, didn’t seem to be the right word. 

 

Lucy opened her mouth, struck by the sudden realisation that she was standing in this woman’s courtroom, and that they were blatantly flirting, something that despite its relative innocence, would certainly be frowned upon, but her response was interrupted in the form of a rather garish looking woman, who rounded the corner carrying a stack of files, barrelling through the scattered clumps of people towards Alura with a singular determination. 

 

Alura nodded at the approaching woman once, causing her to stop a respectful distance away, before turning back to Lucy. “Don't be disheartened, Lucy. Our mistakes and failings do not define us. They are simply smaller stepping stones that lead us to success. I have very little doubt that you're going to make a fine detective”. Her smile was so pure and genuine now that Lucy was completely taken aback. No one, not one goddamn person on this hunk of dirt had ever told her that before, and it left her feeling oddly raw, but still in awe of this stranger who saved her from an early retirement.

 

Alura shot a glance at the clearly impatient woman with a slight, apologetic smile. “Sorry to end this delightful chat, but my aide requires my assistance, and your partner will probably die of starvation soon”. Alura bowed her head slightly in farewell. “See you around, Detective”. 

 

“Yeah, see you around, Your Honour”. 

 

With that, the woman turned and walked towards the impatient woman standing in the wings, waving her hand in apparent dismissal of something she was saying, leaving Lucy to stare after her with a growing sense of astonishment at the whole situation. 

 

She watched the woman walk away for a moment longer, a faint smile lingering on her lips. As she turned to leave, she vowed silently to herself that if she  _ did _ ever see the woman again, she’d make a much better impression.

 

**-x-**

 

“This is Dispatch to Detective Lane, come in Detective Lane”.

 

Lucy startled from her daydream to find everyone in the Captain's office looking at her, Alex with clear amusement, Astra with an irritated scowl and Alura with curiosity that bordered on concern. 

 

“Shut it, Danvers”, Lucy quipped back, stifling any further retort when the gravity of the situation fell on her shoulders again now that she’d come back to reality. They still didn’t know what was going on, but the tension in the office had been evident from the start, and it had only increased during her slip in concentration. 

 

Alex made no further comment, apparently just as affected by her Captain’s mood, and Astra, seemingly satisfied that she had their attention again, picked up a folder from the desk that Lucy recognised as a case file. The woman let it fall back down to land atop the rest of the mess that was the aftermath of her spat with Alura as she rose to her feet and came to perch, on the edge of her desk, arms folded firm against her chest while she regarded the three people attentively awaiting her next move. 

 

Lucy dared to look away from her Captain for a moment to steal a glance at Alura. Unlike her sister, Alura seemed to be the very epitome of calm, hands linked together and her breathing even while Astra explained why she had called the two detectives to her office. A small smile seemed to curve the judge’s lips, as it became clear that Lucy’s subtle glance had been far from that, and Alura coughed lightly to indicate that Lucy should return her attention to the matter at hand.

 

“Now, I’m sure you're both well aware of the criminal who calls himself ‘The Artist’ correct?”

 

It was a rhetorical question. There wasn't an officer from here to Gotham who didn’t know of the serial killer. His moniker was infamous, and several biographies and endless media reports later and no one was any closer to figuring out the identity of the serial killer, or really anything about him.

 

He was the ghost of the precinct, and a deadly pain in the backside for its officers.

 

Forensic reports of his victims could only give the NCPD so much. The killer was beyond meticulous and never left a trace, his coded messages sat unsolved in the police archives and the only clear fact that had been established was that the killer was male and a resident of the city. The department had been the laughing stock of the world after they published that. But laughter had soon turned back to terror when the killings escalated and the body count grew. Now people were scared to even utter his name, scared to leave their own home. 

 

It was dark times indeed.

 

Lucy gave Alex a sideways glance and they both nodded. They were both intimately familiar with the details of the case, having worked it some time ago themselves as part of a task force of Astra’s own design. She'd brought in the best from every district, even enlisted the help of freelance investigators, but it had all been in vain. The Artist seemed to know their every move before they could even make it, and the closer that they got to the murderous son of a bitch the further they actually seemed. The frustration resulted in three resignations of highly ranked officers and an increasingly high body count until finally, the FBI was granted jurisdiction over the whole case, and the NCPD was left out in the cold to fend for itself while it’s big brother tried to succeed where they had failed. 

 

Though it was far from the outcome Lucy had wanted, she was secretly happy that the FBI were struggling just as much as the NCPD because her Captain had come under a lot of fire for how she had handled the killer and had even been accused of wasting resources and not doing enough, despite the evidence clearly showing that Astra had gone above and beyond her duties to see this man captured. 

 

“What’s the bastard up to now?” Alex muttered. Her statement, straight to the point as always, pulled Lucy's focus back again and she took the folder from her Captain's desk and thumbed through it, no longer fazed by the macabre pictures the paper contained because after a few years on the job there was very little that would keep you up at night, and there tended to be something rather repetitive about the Artist’s work, however gruesome. It was one of the thing that Alura had criticised in her interview. No matter how horrible the man’s crimes were, he was not the inspired talent he obviously considered himself to be. Just another killer with another fanciful name, underneath everything. 

 

Alura watched her and Lucy briefly met her gaze, searching for answers as to why she was here and what the connection was between this impromptu meeting, the Artist and Alura. The pit of unease forming in her stomach told her that whatever this was it was far from good. 

 

“Made his last mistake, if I have anything to say about it”. Astra’s voice was an octave higher than usual, a clear sign of her struggle to contain her temper. 

 

“Like?” Lucy dared to ask, not entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer, because clearly it involved Alura. Alura, the woman with her unnatural calmness and ability to appear at ease while her carbon copy fretted with anger and nerves.

 

“Detectives, you know I've never been one for dramatisation and colourful speech, we leave that to the likes of my dear niece and Cat Grant, so I'll ask that you forgive me for-”, she picked up the clear evidence bag from the table that was buried under the scattered files, slipping out a photograph which Alex promptly took from her hands, Lucy and Alura pretending not to notice the length of time in which the detective touched her Captain's hand, “- being so melodramatic when I tell you that if a picture speaks a thousand words, this one screams”. She shuddered, but whether that be in fear or anger they’d never truly know, and swept her attention back to Alura, lips pursed in a thin line, biting back retorts to their earlier interrupted argument whilst she waited for her detectives to analyse the photograph. 

 

It could easily be either for her Captain, Lucy noted, when she dragged her gaze back from Alura and Astra to scrutinise the picture in her partner's hands, the edges showing signs of wear from being thumbed over and dusted for prints. 

 

To give it some credit, the subject of the photo was not the worst that the two had seen, would it not have been for the obvious defacing it would have looked innocent enough, perhaps right at home on the mantle of a fireplace, only coming under fire should one note the angle in which the shot had been taken.

 

“Wait . . . This, this was taken from the bullpen, near the cooler!” Alex was quick to point out, and the familiar tells on her face showed Lucy that her brain was working overtime to connect the pieces of the puzzle Astra had presented them.

 

“Very astute detective”, this time Alura broke the silence, her words full of praise, devoid of the sarcastic tone one would expect from such a phrase.

 

“Give it here a minute”. Lucy took it from Alex and held it up against the light, frowning in concentration as she studied every possible detail of the picture in hand.

 

It was a photo taken late, evident by the low light conditions from the few desk lights that illuminated the bullpen. The precinct had clearly been winding down for the night shift at the time as there was no sign of others in the shot also, just Astra and Alura. 

 

It had been snapped in a hurry, judging by the slight motion blur, and focused predominantly on the big window that made up one wall of the Captain's office that they were currently standing in. The blinds that often obscured the Captain's office from the rest of the floor to allow her some privacy to work were pulled back, rare but not entirely unusual for Astra as sometimes she liked to keep a direct eye on her officers, or so she proclaimed, in truth though the real reason was that sometimes Astra struggled with confined spaces, a small fact Alex had accidentally let slip one night during a bar crawl and then sworn Lucy to absolute secrecy. Lucy was still unsure as to the reason behind such a fear for her Captain.

 

“When? Where?” Lucy traced the red circle that ran around Alura’s face in the photo as she spoke, like she could erase the Artist’s very intention with such a simple move. 

 

“Earlier this morning. Officer Henshaw and Vasquez brought it in, it was on the kitchen table of a young woman who frequently calls in about her boyfriend abusing her. Hank interrogated the low life whilst Susan questioned the victim, neither apparently have a clue as to how it got there and the victim only bothered to mention it because she saw the interview that my sister gave to Cat Grant about the Artist”.

 

The interview in question had been a big hit, especially online, having been viewed by people from all corners of the city. And there was no confusion as to why for in it Alura had challenged the serial killer, had called the Artist out for his cowardice in preying on the fears of the innocents, had sworn that she would be the one to sentence him and administer the justice he deserved, even went as far as to go off script and ridicule the killers work and call it sloppy, the interview quickly being rushed to a climax after that. 

 

The body count had dropped after that, Judge In-Ze quickly dubbed the Angel of Justice for National City, a moniker that had brought much amusement to the honourable woman, but with it a target on her head, or so it would seem. 

 

“I have several questions but first, forensics find anything?”. Alex this time, taking the lead as she looked at the photo, taking in the way Astra’s hand was resting on Alura’s shoulder, clearly a private moment between the two that neither had ever expected to be intruded upon much or less documented in the way it had been. 

 

“Wiped completely clean, not even a partial fingerprint or a trace of DNA to be found other than that of the occupants of the house and our two officers. No sign of forced entry on the victim's property either, forensics put it's time of placement at around 6 days going off the dust and degradation to the picture. And yes, before you ask, Detective Lane, the cctv for the night in which myself and Alura are in my office has already been checked, nothing anomalous or suspicious was found. It is highly frustrating, but then again nothing with this criminal is ever easy”.

 

Alura moved swiftly to Astra's side, hand already reaching for her shoulder by way of comfort, almost exactly mimicking their stance in the photo but paralleled. “It's going to be okay, Astra, everything is going to be okay”.

 

Astra’s mouth twitched in a faint smile, and she covered Alura’s hand briefly with her own. “I know, Alura. There is no other option. I’ll do whatever I must to make it okay”. 

 

Lucy admired it, the simplicity in the way they comforted each other, jealous that, for all the love between herself and her sister Lois, they would never share such a bond like that shared between the In-Ze twins. It was immeasurable, and when threatened, a power to be reckoned with. 

 

The Artist had to be either incredibly confident, or absolutely insane, to dare to come between them. Lucy wasn’t sure which option was the more concerning.

 

“How can you be sure this is that rat bastards work? As ominous as this photo is, Captain, his work never really comes with a warning and well, his ‘paintings’ are a tad more graphic and macabre than a simple photo. What made you think of him?”

 

Astra flicked her wrist. “Turn it over”. 

 

There, on the back of the photo, were the words,  _ I look forward to painting your sister’s portrait. If a picture contains a thousand words, her portrait will inform the world of your failures.  _

 

Lucy looked up at Astra quickly, just in time to see the woman’s faint, tired smile disappear behind the anger she’d been unable to hide the whole time. “Hence the reference to pictures and the words they can tell. This is the Artist, Detectives, and he wants my sister. That will not happen”. 

 

“Captain, you're gut instinct is as good as law around here, if you think The Artist is behind this then he is. But the FBI has jurisdiction on the case now, which begs the question, what do you want us to do?”. Alex asked, and Lucy felt her heart leap into her throat as she suddenly understood exactly what Astra wanted from them. 

 

Astra smiled faintly, looking between her sister and the detectives before uttering the simple phrase that made Alex groan in remembrance of the last time she said those words, the long healed scar on her shoulder aching in a physical, phantom memory. 

 

“Why, protective custody of course”. 

 

**-x-**

 

It was something of a relief, when they finally pulled up outside Alura’s house, after a ride taken in complete silence, heavy with the things that remained unsaid between them. Lucy, sitting beside Alex in the front seat, could feel her partner’s tension, her worry, and it was clear that Alex felt like there was little point voicing it to Alura after that display in Astra’s office. 

 

Alex turned off the engine, and Lucy unbuckled her seat belt, only to be stopped when Alex reached out and said quietly, “Luce”, the use of her nickname that was usually solely reserved for the time they caught up off duty together, made Lucy pause, recognising instantly from the way Alex was gnawing on her bottom lip that there was something on her mind, “hold up a sec”. 

 

Alura slipped from the backseat without a word, and Lucy turned her head slightly to watch the woman ascend the steps to her house. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and turned more fully to face her partner. “Whats up?”

 

There was a moment of silence, and Lucy watched her partner, observing the way Alex tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, tension evident in the sharp line of her jaw. “You know that Astra doesn’t get worried, right? Like, ever”. 

 

Lucy raised an eyebrow, mainly to disguise the unease creeping its way up her spine. “I’m pretty sure she was worried when you got shot two years ago”. 

 

Alex scoffed. “It was closer to three, actually, and you know what I mean. I’ve never seen her like this, Luce. Honestly, I think she’s terrified”.

 

If Lucy hadn’t been concerned before, she definitely was now. As it was, on top of the worry she’d been feeling since Astra’s private debriefing, it was like another weight on an already heavy burden, and she swallowed tightly. “Then we’ll just be… more careful”.

 

Alex rolled her eyes. “I don’t think we need to worry about us. I don’t know whether Alura actually thinks we’re overreacting, or if she’s using denial as a coping mechanism, but if she insists on dismissing the threat, we might have a problem”. Alex ran a hand over her face and closed her eyes briefly. “Remember that time we had to protect Kara, right? And how difficult that was because she kept giving us the slip?”

 

Lucy suppressed a shudder, remembering with vivid detail how much trouble the young journalist had caused them, by insisting on continuing her investigation into the rumours of corruption within the political team viving for the Mayor’s position in the upcoming election, in order to prove that she had more to offer than just the weight that the  _ In-Ze _ name carried throughout the city. It had been understandable, of course, that she’d want to go to lengths to prove herself to the two formidable women running The Planet, who had built their empire up together with nothing but their own intelligence. Cat Grant cared little for family connections, and Lois Lane had cut ties with everyone in her family, with the exception of Lucy, long ago. They believed in making a name for yourself, and Kara had wanted to prove that she could. 

 

The result was a very legitimate threat on Kara’s life that she had continued to ignore to get the proof the police needed to close the net, Alex getting almost fatally shot protecting her, and Kara becoming the youngest investigative journalist at The Planet since the two founding members began it all those years ago. 

 

The entire escapade eventually led to Alex and Astra getting together, and that, on top of the fact that Alex would have done anything to protect Kara, even after knowing her for such a short time, had caused Alex to maintain that the near death experience was worth it. 

 

Lucy shook herself, dragging herself back to the present. “Hardly something I’ll ever forget, really, but I get it. You’re saying we should probably expect the same from her mother?”

 

Alex grunted. “Honestly, I think we should expect it to be worse”. 

 

Lucy groaned. She had hoped that Kara’s stubbornness, persistence and occasional recklessness had been a product of being raised solely by Alura and Astra, and inheriting traits from both of them. It was easy to see where Kara got her desire to help people from. She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, okay, that would be a problem. I’ll mention it to her”. 

 

There was a pause. Alex sighed, shaking her head, and muttered, “you know it’s a good thing that Kara’s out of the city at the moment”.    
  


Lucy laughed, a strained, tight sound. “She’d cause us a lot of trouble if she was, definitely”.    
  
Alex smiled slightly. “Astra would probably go grey if she had to deal with Alura thinking this isn’t a real threat, and Kara trying to investigate it on her own”. 

 

Lucy smirked. “I’ll tell her you said that”. 

 

Alex arched an eyebrow. “You could, if you want me to tell her that you banged her sister”. 

 

Lucy choked. Alex laughed, a genuinely amused sound, but there was no judgement in her eyes. Lucy recovered herself relatively quickly, and snapped, “I’m pretty sure Astra already knows that part, Alex. You both expected that to happen anyway. You pretty much set us up, you know”. 

 

Alex tilted her head, her expression knowing, and almost sympathetic. “That part, huh?”

 

Lucy gritted her teeth, and waved her hand. She was not about to get into that, into the fact that they should have cut contact once that night was over, but didn’t. Where would she even start? With the fact that they tried? That that was exactly what they meant to do? That if not for that one day when they ran into each other in the park, they would have? Lucy’s relationship with Alura consisted of late night conversations over the phone, and wishing for things they couldn't have. There was nothing to tell, really. 

 

“Whatever”, she snapped, “I’m going to go and check on her. The sooner we start looking through those threats, the better”.

 

She was out of the car before Alex could say anything, forcing Alex to lean over and grab her arm through the open window, a position that could hardly be comfortable. It was that, perhaps, that made Lucy stop. 

 

The slightly mocking look had vanished from Alex’s expression, and the sympathy in her eyes was almost painful to see. It was almost as bad as the understanding, the earnestness in her voice when she said, “hey, Luce, I’m not judging you, okay? Hell, I mean, look at me and Astra. But you can talk to me, yeah?”

 

Lucy sighed. It was rare that Alex was this open with her, despite their close friendship, dropping the sarcasm that Lucy shared in favour of genuine honesty and affection. She smiled slightly, letting her anger drain from her. “Yeah, yeah, I know”. 

 

Alex let go of her hand, resting it on the edge of the open window, and the corners of her eyes pinched in something like pain. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re both over thinking this? I know you're worried about consequences, Luce, but the same could be said for me and Astra . Do you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t be that bad? That you should just go for it?”

 

Lucy did not even bother to attempt a smile this time. Alex had hit far too close to home. “Honestly, Alex? All the time”. 

 

**-x-**

 

It was strangely surreal to be back in Alura's house again. For a moment, Lucy simply stood in the threshold, leaning back against the closed door and taking in the things that were the same, things that she could remember vividly from that one night. She let her eyes roam over the photographs on the wall, pushing off the door and walking down the corridor to look at them more closely.

 

There were a lot of them, of these marked moments in Alura's life, pictures of Alura and Astra growing up, identical smiles and gleaming eyes, pictures of Kara as a child, in her teens, and now, as a young adult. There was a single photo of Kara and Alex, taken not long after Alex was finally ‘freed’ from hospital. Her arm was still in a sling, a price that Alex had claimed was more frustrating than painful. No one commented on her frequent winces. 

 

Lucy shook herself, catching herself smiling fondly at a picture of Alura and Astra holding Kara by her hands and swinging her into the air, and cleared her throat. “Alura?” she called out, glancing towards the open living room, and smiling despite herself at the flowers on the tables, at the greenery spilling from pot plants, like the garden had invaded the woman's otherwise perfectly clean house. 

 

“I'm in here”, Alura's voice echoed from further within the house, from down the corridor and through the living room. 

 

Lucy frowned, walking forward hesitantly, unsure of exactly where to go. She was distracted, however, by a gold blur to her left, and turned her head just in time to brace herself for impact as a large, excited, golden haired dog collided with her legs. She laughed, bending down to scratch the dog behind the ears. “Hey Krypto, I'm happy to see you too”.

 

The dog smiled at her, wagging his tail enthusiastically. Lucy smiled. “I don't suppose you can help me find Alura, can you?” 

 

Krypto barked, and Lucy turned to follow him through the living room, and to a shorter corridor in the corner. The dog led her to a room that looked like a comfortable, private study, well lit by large, open windows that allowed a nice view of the garden. Lucy smiled slightly. She wasn't surprised, somehow. But she still couldn't see Alura. “Alura?” 

 

Alura's head popped up from behind the desk, and she waved a hand in acknowledgement. “This might take a moment, Lucy. I'm not exactly sure where I put them”.

 

She stood, and Krypto wandered over to lick her offered hand, and settle under the desk. Lucy could see his tail thumping against the carpet, and she raised her eyebrows. “You let him in here?” 

 

Alura scoffed, turning to run her hands over files on the bookshelf. Lucy had to make a very deliberate effort not to stare at the long lines of her legs as she rose up onto her toes. “Despite being incredibly well behaved, Krypto goes where he wants to go. Kara was convinced that he was the most intelligent of his kind, when she was growing up. Sometimes I was almost inclined to believe her. Besides, the nights can be long. I appreciate the company”.

 

Lucy had a sudden, vivid image of Alura sitting at this desk late into the night, with the windows open to let in the cool night, the lamp on her desk highlighting the angles of her face, and her bare feet propped up on Krypto’s back as he napped beneath her desk. She smiled, and shrugged a shoulder. “We had a dog, growing up. Mom never let him in her study”.

 

Alura turned suddenly, her brow lowered in a sharp frown. It took Lucy a moment to understand that the expression in the woman's eyes resembled sympathy.  _ Oh _ , she thought, gritting her teeth to bite back the instinctive wince that always followed seeing that expression. “I know it has been some time since… I was sorry to hear about your mother, Lucy. I never had the pleasure of knowing her, but I know her work. She was a great woman, by all accounts”. 

 

In all their brief meetings and numerous conversations, the subject of their dead mothers had never come up. Lucy had wondered, when she heard about how the twins’ mother died in the line of duty attempting to bring down a crime ring that Lucy's own mother spent the majority of her legal career pursuing, whether the twins had chosen their respective careers as a consequence of what happened. Out of a feeling of responsibility, and carrying on a legacy.

 

Lucy was young when her mother died, young enough that her memories of the woman faded over time, young enough that the few fragments she has were vivid, like bright splashes of colour on a dull canvas, and she treasured them. She wondered if it was similar, for Alura, for Astra, if their memories of their mother, who died several years before Lucy’s mother, making them around the same age as her when her own mother died, were like that, precious, flickering things. 

 

Perhaps it was because of that because of the knowledge that Alura could relate, that her sympathy was coming from a place of understanding, that it wasn’t an empty apology, that stopped her from feeling irritated. She nodded, and almost smiled. “Thank you. I guess she was”. She frowned slightly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your mother, too”.

 

Something in Alura’s expression shifted, like a twitch, and she turned back to her search with a slight shrug. “That was a long time ago”. 

 

Lucy blinked. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, and she sensed, somehow, that it was not a topic to press. So instead, after a moment’s pause, she said, “why do you even keep these threats, if you never read them?”

 

Alura’s voice sounded lighter, almost amused, when she said, “it amused me, at first. Later it became… almost a reminder. That I was doing something right, to be getting so many, that I was… getting there. It became a habit”. 

 

“And you’ve kept all of them?”

 

“No. I throw them out at the end of every year. A spring cleaning, of sorts”. Alura made an exaggerated exclamation of triumph, bending to pry a file from the bookcase. “Here”, she said, turning to face Lucy, holding it out in her hand, “these are the relevant ones, I believe”. 

 

Lucy took the file from her, unable to hide her astonishment. The file was heavy in her hands, thicker than she expected, and it was difficult to believe that it was from a single year. She blinked, staring down at it, and a strange, heavy weight settled in her chest as Alura moved past her to the door. She looked up, staring at the back of Alura’s head as she moved away, and it was suddenly like she could see a target painted there. Her throat tightened, and any levity felt like it had been sucked from the air, leaving it dry and stale and choking. 

 

“Alura…” Lucy trailed off, waiting for the woman to turn to face her. Alura turned around, her hand resting on the door frame, and something like comprehension passed over her expression, like she too had realised that they were alone, that Alex was waiting patiently in the car, and that there was no one to see them. Alura reached out, and shut the door, turning to face Lucy with an expectant, soft expression. Everything about Alura seemed soft, right now, in the secluded space of her home office, like Lucy wasn’t clutching a file of death threats in her hand. 

 

Lucy watched Alura in court, once. She watched the softness in Alura’s face fade away, watched her don a mask that was strikingly similar to the one Astra wore at work, and she’d understood why Alura had a reputation for being ruthless and merciless when it came to the criminals she seemed to be waging a war on. She was known for her compassion too, but it was selective, directed at those who deserved it, and it was a little remarkable, how she seemed to be able to detect who was in need of it, and who was not. 

 

She was like Astra, in that regard. Astra could detect a lie like a bloodhound catching the scent of deception, and after she’d first seen her Captain in action, Lucy had understood instantly how Astra had risen through the ranks so quickly, to achieve the title at such a young age. 

 

It was a little unnerving, really. That these two women, so similar in so many regards, and yet different in ways Lucy could not explain, never seemed to make mistakes. It was like they could look at people, and understand them. Like they could see the things that people wished to hide. 

 

It was one of the reasons why Lucy prayed that Astra would never ask her about what was really going on between her and Alura. She could lie, but Astra would see it. 

 

It was just one of the many reasons why they should have ignored this thing between them. But they hadn’t. 

 

It was hard. Hard, because Lucy had been fighting for what she wanted for most of her life. Alura, the city’s renowned and treasured Angel of Justice, was the same. They saw what they wanted, and they fought for it. 

 

It was just difficult, when what they wanted was something that could potentially destroy the careers they’d spent so long fighting for. 

 

“Lucy?” Alura stepped closer to her slowly, like she was cautious of what might happen if the distance between them became too small. “Are you alright?”

 

Lucy scoffed, leaned back against Alura’s desk, and folded her arms, letting the file dangle from her fingers. “Am I alright? You’re the one getting death threats. Serious ones. Ones that have been enough to worry Astra, visibly, and that doesn’t happen often. Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Alura shrugged, stepping steadily closer, and Lucy wondered if it was a bad idea, because her throat was tightening at the woman’s proximity. “I didn’t think it worth mentioning. They’re not exactly… uncommon. Our conversations are so”, she waved her hand, seemingly lost for the right word, and words flittered through Lucy’s mind,  _ wonderful, longed for, secret, quiet, missed,  _ before the woman settled on, “short, that I would rather spend them talking about more important things”.

 

“Your life is important”. Lucy could hear the almost pleading note in her voice, because she knew Alura, knew her so well despite the short amount of time they’ve actually spent together, and the woman was as stubborn as her sister, and Lucy was afraid that this protection they had been assigned with would not be successful, if Alura believed it wasn’t serious. This was not Lucy’s first time assigned to protecting someone, and it was hard, harder than it needed to be, if the person decided to waste energy fighting their detail.    
  
Alura’s expression softened, her lips curling up in a gentle smile. She was close now, close enough that Lucy could take a step forward and lean up, that she could kiss her, if there weren’t so many reasons hanging in the air between them to remind her that it would be a bad idea. Lucy cleared her throat, speaking to fill Alura’s silence. “I just… I want you to know that my… that our relationship, whatever it is now, that it won’t interfere with protecting you, and finding this Artist creep”. 

 

Alura’s smile widened, her eyes crinkling in amusement, her expression fond and almost, strangely, wistful. Lucy wanted to take Alura by the shoulders and shake her, because now wasn’t the time for smiling at her like that, for making her stomach twist, because this was serious, and Alura was acting like it wasn’t. She understood why Astra had looked like she wanted to bang her head against the desk repeatedly when they left. 

 

Alura raised her hand, slowly, like she was giving Lucy time to pull away, and she should have, she should have, she should have backed away the moment she registered the movement, but she didn’t. Alura placed her hand on Lucy’s cheek, curving her palm softly against her skin, watching Lucy’s reaction with a slight frown. Lucy wished that she had the strength to draw away, but she was drawn to Alura, she’d been drawn to her since their first meeting, drawn to her the way the sun chased the night, drawing a blanket of stars in its wake as it dipped below the horizon again, an endless cycle that had always felt inescapable, natural, and instinctive. They had been drawn into each other’s orbits again, and Lucy wanted to respond to the gravity in her chest, drawing her ever closer to the woman who touched her like she was something precious to be treasured. 

 

Alura smoothed her thumb over Lucy’s cheek bone, and Lucy let her eyes flutter closed. The touch brought back everything, all the memories of that one night where they’d pretended to be anything but what they were, where they’d pretended that there were no consequences, when Lucy had pressed Alura down against the luxurious sheets in this very house, and mapped every inch of her skin until it was burned into her memory, until she’d never be able to forget the sounds Alura made when she came apart under Lucy’s hands. 

 

They’d been careful not to touch, after that night, even during that day they meet again in the park, when Lucy had believed she’d never see the woman again, when she’d believed such a thing was for the best. But then a dog knocked her down in its excitement to see her, and she’d looked up to the sound of familiar laughter, and staying away had felt impossible. But they hadn’t touched again. It was like Alura knew, it was like she felt the same, like such a thing was dangerous. 

 

It didn’t feel dangerous, in that moment. The touch of Alura’s hand against her cheek felt right in ways that Lucy did not have the words to describe. 

 

“Lucy”, Alura’s voice was soft and almost reverent, and Lucy almost shivered, “you should know that as… exasperating as Astra’s over reaction may be, I am.... I am glad, that I will get to see you more often”. 

 

Lucy kept her eyes closed, but she lifted her hand, curling her fingers over Alura’s wrist, and holding it. The private spaces, the private moments, like this one, in with the door shut and the world gone quiet outside, were dangerous, because they both had a tendency to forget why they’d done their best to stay away from each other in the first place. She sighed heavily, loathe, and yet needing, to break the moment. “Your life might be in legitimate danger, and all you can think about is that? This could be serious”. 

 

Alura sighed, curling her fingers against Lucy’s jaw, like she wanted to tilt her head up, like she wanted to kiss her, and Lucy opened her eyes to give Alura a warning look, to remind her of the things they kept forgetting. Alura only chuckled, her mouth quirking in a way that made the temptation to kiss her all the worse. “Well then, Detective”, she said, drawing out the title in a way that was mocking without being cruel, “if that is the case, then I trust you to protect me”. 

 

Lucy could’ve reminded her that she was not doing it alone. She could’ve reminded Alura of Alex, still waiting in the car, probably growing increasingly impatient, of the fact that her sister was going to do everything she could to help, too. She could’ve told Alura to drop her hand, she could’ve pushed her away, she could’ve stepped back. She could have done the right thing.

 

Instead, Lucy lifted hand, and mirrored Alura’s gesture, touching the woman’s cheek with hesitant fingers, ignoring that voice at the back of her mind that always sounded strangely like Lois, and let them rest there for a moment. A moment, that she told herself, would be the last indulgence, despite thinking, despite knowing in her bones, that it wouldn’t be. 

 

“I will, Your Honour”, she said, and it was a declaration and a vow that was filled with all the things she had ever wanted to say to Alura, all the things she had kept secret, one that she knew she would keep no matter what it cost her, no matter what she had to do. 

  
“I promise”. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we totally lied about posting the second chapter the day after the prologue but I like to think it was worth the wait :) Plus one of us *eyes a certain fox* is working on a legendary fic where Alura x Lucy was born and I'll set myself on fire before I impede its progression. Anyhow Kudos and feedback is always appreciated*
> 
>  
> 
> *desperately craved

**Author's Note:**

> We started talking about head canons for a human au and before we knew it, we had a legitimate plot, and so we thought, well, why not? 
> 
> Should either of us be starting a new story?
> 
> No. 
> 
> Is that gonna stop us?
> 
> Nup. 
> 
> Chapter one will actually be up tomorrow basically so if you're confused about whats happening it'll clear up soon enough :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!


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